The Sorrow of Sorn
by Morse333
Summary: The tragic story of Sorn, a fallen Jedi, caught in the middle of the Clone Wars, desperately fighting for what he thinks is right.
1. The Revelation Of Sorn

_I've never truly wanted to hurt anyone. In my whole life I've merely done what I thought was the right thing to do. That's the Jedi way. That's how I was taught._

_But as this war came closer we saw that the galaxy wasn't what we thought it was. We were lied to, and forced to watch as the poison of corruption overtook the great Republic. _

_And as thousands of system band together to separate themselves from this wicked institution, I refuse to let my sword be used to silence the only sane voices in the galaxy. And I refuse to stand upon the sidelines observing what is to come._

_Dooku said the Republic cannot be fixed, and it's time to start over._

_My homeworld, Farloria, agrees._

_And so I, Sorn Zavan, Jedi Knight of the Order, renounce my ties to the guardians of peace and defender of lies._

_I am no Sith, and I refuse to believe the propaganda that says our great leader is. _

_Today I begin the fight for Farloria,_

_My one true home._


	2. Looking Back

_"Looking forward shows you accept your fate, looking back shows you have doubt" - Unknown Jedi_

**- Jedi Temple, Coruscant **

**- First Month of the Clone Wars**

There was a tremor in the force that night. A sharp shift which made the air feel cooler then usual. Such things were not uncommon in times of uncertainty. But this disturbance came from within the temple itself. It wasn't enough to drive the sleeping Jedi from their beds, but it made resting soundly quite difficult.

The halls were largely empty, which was normal for it being so late at night. The sound of speeders from beyond the temple walls could be heard as the Galactic City never truly slept. The lights were dimmed and few inside the temple remained awake. But there was one who walked through the halls, quickly and quietly, the source of this miserable disturbance.

Sorn Zavan, Knight of the Order, a Jedi known for his skills with a blade and his tongue. In spite of his talents, he would frequently get caught up in arrogance. He remained within the tenants of the Jedi Order without question, but now he wandered as his thoughts shot from one thought to the next.

The usual light, unconcerned smirk that generally rested upon his face had been replaced with a loose jaw and sorrowful eyes. His breathing was somewhat labored as he drifted forward. He was heading for the front of the temple, knowing that the only logical course for him to take was separation.

Suddenly Sorn stopped. His eyes opened wider. He knew what he felt. It was a presence that was all too familiar to him. His head lifted up to see the image of an older man, wearing a common set of brown jedi robes. His hair was significantly thinned and pale, and his skin was wrinkled with age. It was the unmistakable image of his old master, Amon Drom.

"Where are you going Sorn?" Amon asked the young Knight before him. He had a serious look on his face, as he could already sense the answer to the question.

Sorn looked back his mouth hanging loose a moment. He was at unusual loss of words. Where normally he would have some quick witted response, now he was left with few phrases in his mind. "The fact that you're even here says you already know." Sorn said not breaking eye contact.

Amon did not move, he just stood his ground. "And what would drive you so mad as to think that throwing away everything you have here is best course of action?" The older Jedi master was slightly hunched over but remained standing where he was.

The suggestion that he was going mad upset Sorn, more then he had been. "Mad?" He echoed. "You know what madness is Amon? Following this corrupt _Republic,_" Sorn changed his tone one the word Republic, finding the notion that it was a Republic absurd. "into a war to crush the only voices that are seeing things clearly."

The old Jedi in front of Sorn folded his arms. "I see. So its Separatist Propaganda that has led you to forsake common sense." Amon retorted.

Amon Drom was approaching eighty years of age, where Sorn was just over twenty five. Amon had always been a steadfast supporter of the Republic, seeing few faults in it. Holding absolute faith in its ability to govern and help the people within it was not terrible common, but Amon was one such true believer. He had fought many conflicts for the Jedi and the Republic, and the recent outbreak of the Clone Wars was just another attempt to destabilize democracy and peace as far as he was concerned.

His young former student was not quite so devoted however. In spite of Amon's teachings, Sorn had always been fairly resistant to the idea. Sorn had seen many things on their many missions together differently then his master, and had found that peace brought by force, and a brewing conflict as a horrendous breach of what the Jedi believed. But with the news he'd received that day, he couldn't stand it any longer.

"I know about the mission you have planned Amon." Sorn said gravely. "Your proposed invasion of Farloria." His words were filled with an unspoken rage. He wasn't shouting, but his feelings were expressed with every breath. "Why would you choose there. Of all the planets in the galaxy, why would you start with that one?" Sorn asked, but he knew the answer already.

Amon stood straighter and crossed his arms. He was caught in a difficult position with the fact that Sorn knew about his planned attack against Farloria. He had tried to keep it from Sorn, hoping that he could have it done before Sorn found out. "So… Rylla told you did she?" Amon said, suggesting his current apprentice let the words slip.

"It doesn't matter how I know, Amon!" Sorn suddenly shouted. "Why wouldn't you tell me that you were planning to invade my homeworld!?" Sorn was very angry. It came through in his voice, and in his eyes, and in the way he stood suddenly filled with hostility.

"Because if I had told you, you would have left all the sooner." Amon revealed. "I thought…" He paused, as the gravity of this latest failure hit him.

"You thought what!?" Sorn demanded. "That if I found out after the fact, that I might be more willing to follow you on this latest crusade against the freedom fighters of the galaxy?" Sorn held his hands at his side, looking as though he craved a true answer.

"The Separatists aren't freedom fighters." Amon shot back. "They are an army led and loyal to a Sith lord and marching towards the ruin of us all."

Hearing these latest words upset Sorn even more. He had always been an admirer of Dooku. What was more was that Amon knew that Sorn had been, and he knew that those words would just upset Sorn even more.

"Dooku is not a Sith!" Sorn declared, something he'd said many times before. "Just because someone leaves the Jedi... just because someone doesn't want to follow your broken shadow of a government, doesn't mean you have to declare them the epitome of evil. Why can't you understand that!?" This was a discussion Sorn and Amon had had many times before, but they were both completely caught in their ways it was futile now.

"And what do you plan to do Sorn? Go march with the Separatists at the drum beat of the Sith?" Amon asked, unfolding his arms, but keeping a straight forward stance.

Sorn's breathing was still fairly hard. "Maybe you should ask yourself if you plan to live the rest of your days as a blind tool." Sorn said, knowing that the notion would aggravate Amon. "But I won't just stay here following you as you lay waste to cities of people that just want to be free."

Amon's nostrils flared as he was referred to as a tool. He had been called that by an enemy before, and he hated the notion that he was. He was a warrior, and always had been. But he hated people thinking that he was just some blind follower of stupidity. He was a man of pride, perhaps more then a Jedi should be.

Amon reached to his belt and drew his lightsaber, but did not extend its blade.

"Sorn, listen to me now." Amon said sternly. "We are at war, and I will not let you run to the aid of the enemy. Now you will turn back around, or I will call upon the sentinels to subdue you." There was no lie in Amon's eye's. He was absolutely serious. But he could not let someone as talented as Sorn leave to thwart their efforts. He had the potential to make the war all that much worse, and Amon could sense he had already lost him.

Sorn seeing Amon draw his lightsaber, and hearing his words, left him with only one choice. It was staring right at him. The warrior of the old archaic corruption, his old master, drawing a weapon against him in a show of force and intimidation. "You won't silence my voice, master" Sorn swore. "And I won't let you silence others."

Sorn reached to his hip, drawing his lightsaber. Immediately he extended its blade, the green glow coming off of it in a start contrast to the darkness around it. Sorn wore a tunic robe and dark pants. On it's exterior he wore durasteel armor plates. This was something that he had been taught to do by Amon, who rarely moved about without his own armor on. But here he had not, perhaps as a show of sincerity Sorn. But it was too late.

Sorn did not strike however, his blade was merely extended.

Amon then extended his lightsaber, the yellow blade jetting out. It was a little longer then Sorn's blade, but they had always utilized different styles. Sorn emphasized speed and agility, where Amon worked towards strength and stopping his opponents hard strikes.

"Drawing a blade against your master." Amon observed. "You would kill me to follow your ideals?" Amon did not move.

"I have only the intention of leaving this order, and not returning Amon. And you are my only obstacle in doing so."

"Then you've found your way into the darkness and lost yourself." Amon announced with seriousness. "A fine Sith you'll be."

The two stared at each other for two seconds. Two seconds of absolute silence, motionless. They just took in the other and breathed, eyes locked, and hands fixed on their weapons.

Suddenly they both moved forward. It was impossible to tell which moved first, the two of them both sensed the other's plan to attack. They came together, Sorn coming with his blade to the side, one handed, while Amon struck with both hands.

The blades came together, and locked. They swung three more times. All three strikes were blocked, and the two kept their eyes fixed. It was a horrible noise, as the rush of the sabers cutting through the air and smashing against each other resounded through the hall.

Other Jedi heard the ruckus and began to appear, watching the old Jedi master and his work on each other. They could sense the aggression, but they could not determine what was occurring before their eyes. It was obviously being done maliciously, but both Jedi were angry, and there was no way to truly stop them. The newly arriving jedi just kept their distance as the two fought for several more seconds.

But Sorn opted for cutting the duel short. He needed to leave. Even if he succeeded in defeating Amon, he would never make it out of the temple. He drove all his energy forward and with a push of the force he drove Amon back.

Before waiting to see what happened, Sorn ran out of the hallway and through a door which led to a balcony. He was chased as several Jedi demanded he halt, seeing Sorn now as the aggressor. They raced after him so as to block his escape, but Sorn had already gotten a few seconds head start.

Sorn got the balcony and suddenly had a stroke of luck. There were two speeder bikes. Both were projects of a more technically savvy Jedi. He did not know who, but he'd seen them before. He drove a quick strike through one of the bikes, cutting it in half, so that he would not be followed. He then quickly hopped on the second speeder bike, and started it up. Just then a set of Jedi came through the same door he had. But by now it was too late.

The speeder bike lifted off the ground and into the air, and Sorn began to move away.

As he did, he looked back to the balcony, and he caught a glimpse of several Jedi. One of which was Amon, his blade no longer extended, watching his old apprentice ride away in shame. But what hurt the most was seeing Rylla, radiant in her beauty even in the state she was in. She must have felt the disturbance and recognized who it was coming from.

Sorn knew she could see it was him. It was hard on him. Just hours earlier she had told him about Amon's planned attack on Farloria, but Sorn had promised her he wouldn't leave the order over it. Now he was riding away, in the ultimate state of disgrace. Having attacked his master, in the halls of the temple, all because he was breaking the promise he'd made to her.

Looking back may have been the single sign of proof that he was not completely gone, but the fact that he did not turn around showed that Sorn had ended that chapter of his life, and was riding on to an uncertain future.


End file.
